To Work Hard, To Live Hard, To

Didn't You Tie The Mittens On Her Feet (wednesday Evening's) Extra Special Nice? Yes--she Is An Extra Special Nice Pigeon. She Cries For Pity When She Wants Pity. And She Shuts Her Eyes When She Doesn't Want To Look At You. And If You Look Deep In Her Eyes When Her Eyes Are Open You Will See Lights There Exactly Like The Lights On The Pastures And The Meadows When The Mist Is Drifting On A Wednesday Evening Just Between The Twilight And Gloaming.

Tell Me If The Lovers Are Losers... Tell Me If Any Get More Than The Lovers.

Who Else Speaks For The Family Of Man? They Are In Tune And Step With Constellations Of Universal Law.

Poetry Is A Packsack Of Invisible Keepsakes.

When I Was Writing Pretty Poor Poetry, This Girl With Midnight Black Hair Told Me To Go On.